


So Go On and Sleep Darling

by dirtybutterfly (limenitis_arthemis)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek, Consensual Kink, Consensual Somnophilia, M/M, Somnophilia, consensual drugged sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-15 17:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1313839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limenitis_arthemis/pseuds/dirtybutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tries to tell Stiles. Says, “Go ahead and get started without me if you wake up first.” Tells him, “You know you can do whatever you want to me, whenever.”</p><p>But Derek’s not the heaviest sleeper. And he can’t hide the subtle jerk away, when he’s roused by Stiles’s mouth on his neck, the hand reaching for his cock. And with the way Stiles brightens and grins mischievously and says, “Oh good. You’re awake,” Derek can’t stand to pretend otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Roll Over Baby the Time has Come

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KeriArentikai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeriArentikai/gifts).



> Titles from Kelly Clarkson's "Just Missed the Train," which doesn't match the story thematically at all, but they just fit.

Derek’s a giver. Nothing makes him happier than seeing Stiles’ eyes light up at the site of a new bumper for the jeep or that obscure documentary about alternative sentencing for pregnant mothers he had to order off of Dutch ebay. And usually, Derek likes it when Stiles comes first. Sometimes gives him a blow job knowing there’s no time for him to reciprocate.

 

But sometimes.

Sometimes Derek wants to be able to just lie there. To let Stiles use his body, with no need for acknowledgment, no pressure to return the favor.

He tries to tell Stiles. Says, “Go ahead and get started without me if you wake up first.” Tells him, “You know you can do whatever you want to me, whenever.”

But Derek’s not the heaviest sleeper. And he can’t hide the subtle jerk away, when he’s roused by Stiles’s mouth on his neck, the hand reaching for his cock. And with the way Stiles brightens and grins mischievously and says, “Oh good. You’re awake,” Derek can’t stand to pretend otherwise.

 

But God does he think about it.

The nights Stiles isn’t there, Derek imagines it as vividly as possible. He lies on his stomach, keeps his hands still, just barely rocks against the bed. He always starts out the same, where he’s totally passed out and Stiles decided to surprise him and just let himself in with his key. He tries to shake him awake but can’t, Derek is just that sound asleep. And then. And then Stiles goes about getting off with Derek in whatever way strikes his fancy.

Sometimes he falls into scenarios that are soft and slow. Stiles taking advantage of his immobilized state to eat him out for ages, to stretch and tease and explore without any interrupted huffs of inpatient. And Stiles has done this to him so many times, his sense memory so strong, Derek can almost feel the fingers sliding into him, the teeth biting his shoulder. He comes just from pressing his hips down hard into the mattress.

Other times he pretends like Stiles is a completely different person, a brutal stranger. Grabbing Derek by the hair and twisting his face upwards. Shoving his cock into slack lips that give no response, just pushing in past his tongue and over his throat. Fucking into his mouth roughly until he pulls out at the last minute and releases all over his face, come dripping past his tightly shut eyes.

***

He knows there are certain medications that can help. But most of them wouldn’t be strong enough to affect him the way he wants. There’s probably something mystical that would work like that on werewolves, but he doesn’t exactly want to tell Deaton why he wants it. But contrary to popular opinion, Derek does know how to use QuikLookuP.

One night, after another evening of fun and energetic sex with Stiles, absolutely wonderful sex that left him wanting to act out his greatest fantasy even more, Derek creeps out of bed and over to his laptop. He finds stories there, mentions of horse tranquilizers and twilight sleep. But there’s something about the authors that tend to creep him out and he doesn’t really want to interact with someone who actually seems to be giving date rape advice. 

Derek thinks that  if he could just tell Stiles, just ask for his help, that they’d be able to come up with something together. Derek has gotten much better at talking to him about sex, being honest about what he likes or doesn’t. But something about _this,_ burns the words off his tongue every time he tries.

Derek almost resigns himself to this just being one of those things that will remain a fantasy. But he wants it _so_ bad. Something new and hopeful kindles inside, tells him he might just deserve to have what he wants.

When he goes back to bed he leaves the browser window open.


	2. Be Quiet Angel, Don't Make a Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is totally down by the time Stiles lets himself in, so he misses the gentle swish of his clothes falling to the floor, doesn’t feel the fingers raking through his hair, can’t see the reverential expression on Stiles’ face as he says, “Holy shit, you’re really gonna let me do this.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything the next day, but when he goes to his computer there are several JStor searches up for “lactation + _The Martyrdom of Saints Perpetua and Felicitas_ ” and a Thunder Cats cartoon paused in the background. So Derek knows that he saw.

It’s not until nearly a week later though, that Stiles casually drops a mention in the middle of their dinner of fried polenta slices and a sausage ragout.

“I got something,” he says. “I think it might work.”

Of course Stiles doesn’t offer any context. Of course. But Derek knows him well enough to guess by the slightly pink tinge to his cheeks that he’s not offering a solution to their broken cheese-grater problem. And while Derek really wanted some shredded parmesan earlier, he’s pretty giddy realizing what Stiles means.

“So. You want this for you, right? I mean with me, for you, right?” Stiles pauses and waits for his answer. Derek tries to look up, to force himself to make eye contact. And he just…can’t.

“Or did you want to do that to me? I mean, I don’t know, I mean maybe-”

Derek finally manages to shake his head and mutters, “No. Just me. I mean I just want you to do that to me.”

“OK, it’s okay. Kind of surprised you’d give up control like that though.”

Derek starts to shrink down a little, not ready to examine how all the pieces of his past should make him hate this idea but instead have woven it into this unshakable desire deep in his mind.

Stiles grabs his shoulder, “Hey no. Listen, it makes me feel amazing that you would trust me that much. Really. I want to give you whatever you need.”

Derek finally looks up, cheeks still rouged with embarrassment, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

“I, um, can’t say I’d ever really thought about that ever happening.” Stiles continues.  “But hey,” he adds with a leer, “I am getting on board very, very quickly.”

 

Finally a hopeful smile begins to tug at the corner of Derek’s mouth.

“Seriously though,” Stiles says, voice calm and firm, “is there something specific you want to have happen? A particular scenario you want to lay out for me. Any limits?”

“No. I mean. I want you to be responsible for what happens. Just don’t, don’t try to embarrass me.”

“Derek, I would never-“

“I know, I know. I just mean, just do it like normal, just like, kinda,” Derek holds his hands out, helpless.

“Just without your active participation.”  Derek nods. Stiles reaches over, lands a firm kiss on his mouth.

“Okay. Friday?” he asks.

Derek nods and smiles, awed by Stiles’ easy willingness to make him happy.

 

****

 

Derek drops the tablets into the water, they fizz like Alka-Seltzer and the bubbles tickle his nose. The fake fruit taste reminds him of the bug juice they used to serve at summer camp but it beats the hell out of the mossy dirt crap Deaton usually has for him.  The instructions said he’d have about twenty minutes before they really kicked in, so he takes that time to shower, feeling a dull tingle begin to develop in his extremities by the time he’s rinsing off. He lies on his stomach in his boxers, because that’s how he normally goes to sleep. Stiles is strong enough now to move him into whatever position he wants and strip him down the rest of the way.

 

Derek is totally down by the time Stiles lets himself in,  so he misses the gentle swish of his clothes falling to the floor, doesn’t feel the fingers raking through his hair, can’t see the reverential expression on Stiles’ face as he says, “Holy shit, you’re really gonna let me do this.”

It’s not until well after Stiles has removed his shorts and flipped him onto his back that Derek is roused at all. At first he thinks he might be paralyzed but clearly his cock is still working, growing harder as Stiles slowly slides his foreskin down and then back up over the head again and again. He manages to slightly point his toe but isn’t able to gather the strength to lift his arm. He might be able to open his eyes if he really tried, but he can’t be bothered to find out. He’s vaguely interested in watching what Stiles is doing to him, but happy just to focus on the sensation.

Stiles had tried to play it cool when he’d discovered that Derek was intact, but it was clear he was fascinated by his foreskin and Derek isn’t surprised he’s taking the opportunity to play around with it. And Stiles is clearly just indulging his own curiosity, his stretches and pokes too varied to be an attempt to build Derek towards an orgasm. A couple of times he even pulls it as far as he can and lets it snap back like a rubber band. He’s going to pay for that tomorrow. But, even so, it’s Stiles, and his hands are on Derek’s dick, so it’s not long before his precome starts leaking out and then right away a tongue is there, swirling over his head and licking it up. Derek starts to zone out again until there are teeth pressing into the meat of his thighs, a sharp pull as Stiles works to suck bruises into his flesh. His muscles jerk a bit and he lets out a little whimper. But Stiles is right there, rubbing a hand down his chest, and whispering _shhh_ and Derek falls back to sleep.

 

 

When he comes to again Stiles is talking. It’s not clear whether he thinks that Derek’s been able to hear him all along, or he doesn’t care and is just thinking out loud . But he’s moaning in his ear, and the filthy words are pouring out, “Just gonna fuck myself on your cock nice and slow. Ride you like you’re my toy, fuck you as long as I want and you’re just gonna lie so still, so quiet.”

Waking up to his dick surrounded by wet heat and Stiles saying these wicked things, Derek comes right away. And oh, he’s too sensitive now. But he can’t tell Stiles to stop, can’t push him off, and Stiles just keeps going. It feels like it will never end- this agonizing slow slide up and down his cock, the tight squeeze of muscles that won’t let him get soft even as his nerves are screaming from overstimulation.

“Oh God Derek, the way your come is just sliding out of me. So warm and slick. You’re so good, you stay so nice and hard for me.”

 

Frankly, this wasn’t at all what Derek was expecting. It’s not that they’ve never done this before. Stiles had enthusiastically insisted on them trying out every configuration he could think of. It’s just that Derek _really_ likes getting fucked and Stiles has never seemed to mind indulging him. And usually when he’d asked Derek to top in the past it because he was stressed out and needed to be held down and pounded into until he was beaten down and boneless. But this, oh, Stiles just slowly taking his pleasure from Derek’s pliant body, this is different.

And Derek is feeling so sore but his mind just goes quiet knowing he’s not responsible for what’s happening and it’s not his job to hold on or to try and make it good. And he begins to feel the shift coming on, his fangs dropping and hair sprouting from his cheeks and no, this won’t scare Stiles but he knows he looks ugly like this and usually tries to hold it back while they’re being intimate.

But no, Stiles is leaning down, stroking his forehead where his eyebrows used to be and muttering about how hot he looks. “You’re so fucking wild but you’re all mine, mine to do whatever I want, gonna use you all night long.” And then Stiles ducks down and starts licking his fucking teeth and oh, fuck, Derek’s coming again and he feels amazing but it also hurts and Stiles just isn’t stopping and then he’s passing out again.

 

 

When Derek drifts back into consciousness the third time it feels different. Not that quasi-dream state, but like he’s actually waking up. Stiles is wiping him down with a warm damp washcloth. And he’s cleaning come off of Derek’s chest, but his hole feels sore and wet as well. Which means that Stiles fucked him while he was totally blacked out. That he’d stretched him, slid his cock in, and fucked him until he came inside him and Derek didn’t feel a thing, didn’t wake up at all. That it could have been anyone, they could have done _anything_ to him, and he wouldn’t have known other the slight after burn and the mess left behind.  And oh my god that idea makes him hot but there’s a slight panic that wants to rise up at the thought of that as well but Stiles is right there and he’s got a steady hand against his chest and when Derek open his eyes, he’s smiling down at him and Derek’s never felt safer in his life.

“Hey,” he says, chucking the washcloth towards the hamper.

“Hey,” Derek says back.

“You good?” he asks, so casually but with a hundred more questions tucked into the simple query.

And Derek simply answers “Yes.” He reaches up for a kiss to thank him, to let him know that it was just what he wanted, not quite what he’d imagined, but perfect, so perfect, and he’s grinning but about to start crying and he thinks he’s relaxed but his muscles are trembling and he is good, absolutely, he’s good, but he can’t talk about it, not yet. So he buries his sobs in Stiles’ mouth and lets broad shoulders hold him up and big strong hands knead his muscles and wrap their bodies together in a blanket until finally he’s drowsy again, ready for a couple of hours of natural sleep before dawn breaks.

 

 **

 

When he awakens for real, to sunlight streaming in the windows and coffee on the nightstand, Stiles is sitting by his side. He’s playing Minion Run on his phone, but puts it down the instant Derek stirs.

“No one’s ever done anything like that for me before,” Derek offers, edging into the conversation he knows they’ll need to have.

“Well, it was my pleasure,” Stiles replies but he can’t help the shit eating grin, the little waggle of his eyebrows, and Derek was trying to be serious, damn it, but no, this is better. Because now they’re laughing and the vibrations in his diaphragm help Derek know he’s really back in his body and that god-awful cackle assures him that yes it’s really Stiles here with him. And ok, they’ll talk later, but for now he’s good.

He’s good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Keri for the inspiration and the lookover at the end. MWAH!
> 
> If there's something I missed in the tags just let me know.


End file.
